


Steel teeth, ragged tongue

by Hexes



Category: Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics)
Genre: AU, Blasphemy, Cultural issues, Deadpool Thought Boxes, Dirty Talk, Hurt Peter, Hurt/Comfort, I have no particular Peter or Wade in mind, I've come to ruin your childhood, Knotting, M/M, Mean Boxes, Mild Blood, Mild DDLB, More spider-like Peter, PWP, Rabbit!Peter, Sassy Peter Parker, Self Lubrication, Sexually Confident Peter Parker, Smut, Spider-bun, Strangers to Lovers, Unsafe Sex, Use of the word "slut", Wolf!Wade, Wolfpool, complaints about certain hunting practices, impulsive behaviour, internalized ableism, mentions of mpreg, mild foot worship?, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 12:18:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21118673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexes/pseuds/Hexes
Summary: Spider-Man gets caught in a leg trap, and is rescued by none other than the Merc with a Mouth. And then ravished.





	Steel teeth, ragged tongue

Peter was staying low to the ground, his senses screaming, his ears twitching madly beneath his cowl. There was danger, terrible danger, but he couldn't **pinpoint** it. It buzzed through the air, and simmered along the ground, scraping through his head relentlessly. But he couldn't find it, couldn't see it, the air smelled no more heavily of predators than usual, the trees were still in the cool, stagnant air. He couldn't _find_ it. The anxiety was mind-numbing. He stumbled along, his head ablaze with danger. 

The trap snapped shut, the teeth biting cruelly just above Peter's ankle, pulling his leg back at an unnatural angle. He shrieked in agony, turning against the steel as tears leapt into his eyes down his cheeks, soaking the material of the mask. Peter gasped, breathing rapidly through his nose as he tried to control his mind, slow his heart. If the anxiety had been mind-numbing, the agony was the apocalypse rendered into flesh. He gulped down air. He could find a way out of this. He could. He just had to focus, had to-

There was a rustle off to the side, heralding the arrival of a garishly dressed wolf. His ears were pricked forward, attentive and curious. The wolf moved slowly, stance open and unthreatening. He was infuriatingly unconcerned. Peter fumed around the edges of his panicked anguish. 

“You in a bind, little spider?” His voice sounded like an old lorry trundling over a gravel road, even as softly as he was speaking. Peter stared incredulously for a moment, his pain dampened by sheer unbelief. His mind juttered back into motion along with his temper. 

“Obviously,” Peter's reply lashed out at the wolf, just as the trap had snapped shut on his ankle. “I'm not here for a rejuvenating day at the spa.” He added, voice strained with pain, now he'd drawn his own attention back to his predicament. 

“Sorry,” the wolf said, sounding both repentant and petulant. “I can help? It was probably set for me anyway…”

Peter jerked - he couldn't let the predator close - but the trap wouldn't give, and the pain blanked his mind, and suddenly the wolf was there. _ Right _ there. Thighs flung wide around the trap, one hand in a pouch, and the other on the ground as he leaned down. Peter saw the wolf's nose flare behind his mask, his huge chest expanding as he took a deep, scenting inhale. He swayed, seemingly intoxicated by the scent of prey blood. 

“Oh, little spider,” he breathed in the scent again, dropping his mouth open to let it circulate through his olfactory, “who would have guessed?” He asked rhetorically, rocking back to assess the trap. “Who would have known,” he asked himself, digging through another pouch. 

Peter sucked a quick breath, steeling his nerves. “You can't say _ anything!_” He hissed in furiously. He'd worked so hard - he'd modified his suit, brewed special pheromones and oils - from some sources he'd rather not think about too closely - he'd spent months training, and he wasn't about to have some wolf in a red suit _ (with katanas?!) _ running his mouth to god and country. 

Not that said wolf appeared to be paying him much attention. 

He was bent down over the trap with tools appearing from one of his many pouches (tools that seemed too large and certainly too numerous to fit in a utility belt), talking to himself.

Arguing with himself, more like. Peter glared out from behind his mask, eyes narrowed. Just his luck. Get caught in a fucking_ leg trap _ (who even uses those anymore?!) and get discovered by a predator. 

Who talked to himself. 

And was wearing katanas, had two holsters visible, what looked suspiciously like a stick of dynamite tucked into a brace on his leg, and at least one Ka-Bar.

Peter reeled, panic lacing its way through the pain. He had to stay calm - the scent of fear might trigger the wolf, but Jesus Christ on a pogostick, he was bleeding everywhere and this absolute stranger was arguing with himself while paying both far too much and far too little attention to Peter. 

“No, no, that's no way to introduce ourselves you lumbering neanderthal!” He was working the pin out of the release, mumbling about asshole trappers in between bouts of telling himself to be suave, and shooting down ideas that were being proposed by someone or some_thing _ that Peter could neither see nor hear. 

The pressure was easing on Peter's ankle and the release was causing significantly more pain than it was alleviating. It didn't help his temper. 

“Did you hear me, or are you just ignoring the elephant in the room for comedic effect?” He seethed, feeling a fresh gout of blood seeping from his wounds. 

“Oh, I heard you - I’m crazy, not deaf - but it's not a problem - I mean not that it _ should _ be a problem, you being who you are - but because I talk so much no one would ever believe me. Anyway, I knew that an ass that fine couldn't belong to a wolf, Spidey, too juicy. Just wanna eat-”

“Who the fuck _ are _ you?!” Peter cut across him, mortified. He was bleeding. Stuck in a leg trap. With some wolf _ who talked to himself_, was apparently unaware that _ this was deadly serious_, and was under the completely misinformed impression that now was an acceptable time to be coming on to him. 

“Oh. My. _ Dog,_” the wolf breathed. “I am so sorry. I just assumed- I mean, assumptions always make an ass out of one or both of us- but I- I'm Deadpool. Merc with a mouth. Wade, if you like (_please _ like). Professional un-aliver of the inappropriately alive,” he caught his breath for a fraction of a second, “**huge** fan of yours, by the way,” he sighed: catching his breath didn't seem to be feasible in his current state. “That suit of yours? Mm. Fabulous. Truly,” he made a squeezing gesture with his hands just before he released the trap fully. Peter didn't have time to react before the agony of the trap's release rendered him simultaneously deaf, mute, and blind. He blinked rapidly, desperately, and clutched at his own forearms as he choked down the desire to vomit enthusiastically. 

Sounds began to trickle through his consciousness, and he became vaguely aware that his erstwhile companion was addressing him again. It sounded sort of like talking taffy, sticky and stretchy. He struggled to focus. 

“- now, spider buns, what are we going to do with you? Can you walk?” Deadpool had risen to his feet, extending a massive hand to help Peter up. Peter seriously considered ignoring it. The wolf was demonstrably off his rocker, but Peter was still a little shaky on which way was up at the moment. He sucked a breath through his nose and begged forbearance from himself. He decided that, perhaps this once, he could lay aside his pride. ‘_It might also make it easier to brush him off,’ _ he reasoned. Or, perhaps, rationalized. 

Peter took the wolf's hand and tried to stand. Certainly, he had to get away, but he was bleeding terribly, and this wolf had his scent. He couldn't return to his warren, at the best of times he was extraordinarily territorial - even for a rabbit - and leaving his trail was out of the question. He tried to put weight on his injured leg. He screamed, collapsing to the side. In an instant the wolf - Deadpool - was beside him, catching him up without a hint of effort. 

“How long will it take you to heal?” He asked, wrapping an arm around Peter’s back, bending to pick up his legs, and standing to hold him bridal style. It was both irritating and soothing. 

He was furious that he'd been caught to begin with, but the fact that there was someone to hand that could likely hold their own in a fight was a pleasant surprise. He stalled slightly, trying to convince the wolf that he was both capable and resilient. 

“I… don’t know. I have a healing factor, but I’ve never been injured so badly… not like this, anyway.” He was tired, the pain was unlike anything he'd felt before. **Curse** his luck. Deadpool started walking, talking to Peter, and himself.

“I have an immense healing factor - like growing back limbs kind of stuff; I got blown up a couple times - my blood carries the factor - shut up, Yellow - I could, er, you know?" He paused awkwardly, perhaps trying to find an elegant way to word what was coming. "Bleed on you a bit?” Peter stiffened, drawn partially out of his pain-induced haze:

“Are you fucking with me?”

“No! I mean, I would **love** to be _ fucking _ with you, but I am not playing games - I mean, my saliva works, too? It’s a wolf thing, just kinda enhanced by the whole… mutate with a side of basket case.” He was still walking, wandering with seeming intent. “Shut it, White. Anyway… I guess you kind of don’t want to go back to your, um. Home. So I’m bringing you to one of my dens. Safehouses! Not den of iniquity! In a not creepy way, I mean, this is not how I wanted to meet you - stuff it - and I don’t want to creep you out, but you’re seriously injured babycakes, and I just want to help - it’s probably my fault anyway, you know? I’ve been giving an operative quite the merry run around. I think he’s getting angry. Hard to outsmart ol' Poolio,” he paused, looking down at the hero in his arms. “Oh,” he breathed. Peter had fainted. Wade felt mildly giddy. The hero had fallen asleep. _ In his arms._ In **his** arms. 

[Only because he’s losing a dangerous amount of blood,] White rudely pointed out. [And he’s _ fainted,_ not sleeping.] The voice added, sniffing in irritation. 

{Stuff it, killjoy.}

“But guys… Spider-Man. In our arms,” he breathed, wondering. “I just…” he was at a loss for words. 

[Really ought to get him to a hospital?] White suggested.

{Lick him. Lick him ‘til he screams - he probably tastes like sunshine and sweet dreams.} Yellow supplied. 

[You truly are repulsive, you know that?] White was picking a fight, and Yellow was certain to respond, and Wade was far too enamoured to tell the two to shut up. 

He poured Peter onto the couch, propping his legs up to inhibit blood flow. That done, he turned and madly dashed about with a trash bag, sweeping away old take-away containers, empty bottles of rootbeer, and partially-finished cans of energy drinks. It wasn’t that he was ashamed - [As if you were capable of shame,] White seethed - simply that he wanted his hero… _ comfortable _ when he awoke. He made use of the garbage shoot he'd jury-rigged some time ago, shoved his dirty laundry in the closet, and made sure all of his weapons were in their respective racks. He was actually incredibly surprised at how much his den looked like a home rather than a garbage barge. '_Huh_,’ he thought, surveying the acceptability of the results of his less-than-fifteen-minute clean-a-thon. He sprayed Lysol on his gloves, eyes on the hero on his couch. He looked so vulnerable. It was strange to see the powerful hero looking so small. Wade shuffled closer, entranced, the disinfectant falling from his grasp and rolling away without his notice or care. He breathed in the scent of Spider-Man, noticing the strange fracturing in the signature. 

Wade sat on the floor and carefully collected the injured limb. Spidey barely moved. Wade nodded to himself, rolling up the bottom of his mask just below his nose. He could do this! 

[You shouldn't do this.] White interjected, tone firm. 

{You **need** to do this.} Yellow countered. He gently peeled away the remains of the spider-boot, and assessed the damage. Surprisingly, his healing factor seemed pretty decent, at least in comparison to what a normal mutate would be dealing with in response to having been caught in something so barbaric as a leg trap. 

{We should kill that donkey fucking parasite,} Yellow suggested, pleasantly. 

[Pains me though it does to agree with my colleague: I concur.] That was practically a hand-lettered invitation from White. 

'_Sounds good to me,_’ Wade agreed, staring at the gore on poor baby Spidey's leg.

The smell of blood was extremely heady. ‘_Just stay focused, Wilson,'_ he admonished himself. '_Eyes on the prize, yeah?’ _ His gaze flicked up along the length of Spidey’s pretty leg to the juncture, and along his torso to settle in his masked face. ‘ _ Prize,_’ he thought, possessively, and leaned in. 

The first taste was the end. He was ruined. Literally forever. Spidey didn't taste like sunshine _ or _ sweet dreams. He tasted like finding God. He tasted better than dying felt - Death was going to be _ pissed_. He tasted like every ** _good_ ** orgasm Wade had ever had rolled into one mind-melting flavour and drizzled over Spidey's skin - Nathan was going to be _ pissed_. He moaned. 

Laving his tongue over the delicate bones of his little bunny's ankle he ran his nose along a slender calf to the crook of the rabbit's knee, breathing deeply. Spidey stirred slightly, and Wade reapplied himself to his task, cleaning away blood that had seeped over the top of the boy's foot, and up his shin. He returned to the rapidly closing wounds, growling softly in response to a tiny moan that had floated down to his ears like a benediction. If this was going to be ending, he wanted to get every last lick he could. 

“Are you…” Spidey's voice seemed breathy around the edges. He cleared his throat. “Am I going to be alright?”

“Of course, babydoll,” Wade rumbled, running his nose over the instep of Spidey's captive foot. He'd picked up a shift in the little rabbit’s scent. “I'll take the best care of you,” he ran his tongue along the inside of Spidey's ankle, chasing the scent as it built. It was sharp and bright, musky and earthy. His nose lead him to the crook of Spidey's knee again. 

“I,” Peter’s breath caught, “don't think I was injured that high up?” A fine tremor had struck up in his thighs, and he'd propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at Wade with what he assumed was indecisiveness. It looked a bit like the younger hero was worrying his lip, his chin tilted down, and turned to the side. Wade wasn't sure if it was the intent, but it looked delectably flirtatious. The only way it could be more coquettish would be if he were petting his own neck, looking up under his lashes and calling Wade by a pet name. Wade smirked. Spidey's breath caught. 

“Got to take care of all your _ aches _ and pains, yeah?” He smoothed his cheek along Spidey's knee and up his thigh as he said it, nose flaring to catch the rise in that sharp-bright scent he deeply suspected of being arousal. “Told you I'd give you the best care, little spider,” he pressed a hand to the knee of the injured leg, pinning the little bunny as he came to his own knees to lean forward, running his nose along the juncture of thigh and groin. 

“Are all of your pick-up lines so terrible?” Peter breathed, his tone feathery.

“Seem to be working just fine, little one,” Wade shifted his weight, running his lips over the growing bulge between Spidey's shapely legs. Peter gasped, his free leg tilting inward as he continued to accommodate the pressure against this other knee. 

Peter wasn't a virgin. It was vanishingly uncommon for a rabbit of his age to be so. He was considered a bit of a prude though, having only taken two lovers over the course of his schooling. He'd just found the whole process somewhat tedious and unfulfilling. The inferno-hot feel of Deadpool - _ Wade's _ \- mouth over his as-yet-maintained modesty suggested to him that it was, perhaps, because he preferred a different type of lover. He moaned. This seemed like it would be quite fulfilling. 

“Can I interest you in taking off your pants, little spider?” Wade growled from the apex of Peter's legs. 

“Interest piqued,” Peter rushed out, “but it’s a package deal: The top and the pants are one piece,” he writhed, impatient now he’d made his decision. 

“Then give us the blue-plate special,” Wade rumbled from deep within his chest. The sound made Peter’s heart race, his brain unable to decide between panic and arousal. He leaned up, crowding Wade deeper into his lap as he caught the pull at the base of his neck, sliding it down to the valley of his sacrum. He paused, a moment of self consciousness seizing him: Would Wade be disappointed with how his bare body looked? He rolled his shoulders, stretching away the concern. If Wade hadn't wanted to be here, he wouldn't have engineered the situation. 

Wade rocked back on his heels, and reached up to peel the indecently tight material down Spidey’s arms. The glowing skin slowly creeping into view making him vibrate with need. He wanted to rip the material and scatter it all over the floor, preventing the little spider any sort of escape from Wade’s den with his virtue intact. 

[Might also prevent him wanting to return you lack-wit,] White interjected. White had a point, and so Wade abstained from the destruction he craved, instead coaxing the rabbit’s hips up so he could strip the suit off ripcord-muscled thighs. Spidey breathed deeply, pulled off his mask and caught Wade around the torso. He wasn't sure how, precisely, but Wade found himself on his back on the couch, his unclad hero straddling his hips, looking down at him with glittering umber eyes dancing with amusement. Wade stared up, dumbstruck. The buck was gorgeous. 

"I mean, I _ assumed _ you'd be gorgeous," he began, blinking slowly, "but, god damn." He pet Spidey's thighs, wishing he could take his gloves off to feel the skin directly. {No need to traumatize the kid,} Yellow allowed, sounding somehow both smug and repulsed. 

"You'll find a few surprises," Peter purred, his long ears twitching happily at being released from his mask. Wade settled his hands on Peter's hips, fingers curling in greedily.

"Only the best sort, I hope?" Wade countered, grinding up against his lapful. Wade wasn't especially fond of surprises, but he was willing to make an exception. Maybe a few, even. Peter moaned softly as Wade ran his thumbs in circles in the dips of hips. _ 'Okay, as many exceptions as wants, needs, demands, thinks _…'

"Need lube," Wade choked, trying to recall where he'd stashed the nearest bottle. He needed to fuck this gorgeous creature before he came to his senses and ran. His brain felt mushy, too much blood rushing to Wade Jr. He felt the chuckle more than heard it.

"No," Peter moaned, "we don't," he ground against Wade, enjoying the hardness trapped in the red leather. A vague thought drifted through his head about how such a large man managed to get in and out of such tight clothing. 

"Don't want to hurt you," Wade felt that was important to say, given the circumstances. He was also sure that his little Spider-bun hadn't realised the extent of Wade's endowment. He wasn't monstrous, but these things still took time. And lube. Lots of smooth, cold lube dripping down Spidey's crack and making him quiver. "Baby boy, you don't want to take this dry." Wade's overheated imagination suggested that Spidey's little hole would twitch adorably with the proper application of cold lube and hot fingers. He pushed his hips up.

"Who says it'll be dry?" Peter came to his knees, nodding down at their groins, his slick hanging in thin lines from his arousal down to Wade's soaking leather. Wade stared. Blinked. Groaned in delight and dropped his head back. Perhaps his sweet darling buck could change his mind about surprises in their entirety.

"Yeah," Wade breathed, "definitely a good surprise." Peter fidgeted with Wade's belt, pawing impatiently at the obstacle. Wade dropped his hands, making short work of the buckle, button and fly. Peter gasped.

"That's a nice surprise, too," he murmured, pleased by the lack of undergarments. He wrapped greedy fingers around Wade's length, pulling it up to position himself over it. The length was nothing to sniff at, but the girth was toe-curlingly good. Peter sank down slowly, eyes closed and rolling as he took it. The stretch burned, even with his natural slick and he thought that maybe - just maybe - Wade might have had a point about the lube. He whined, slitting his eyes open to glance at the wolf below him, reveling in the look of dumbstruck adoration. 

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," Wade breathed, his fingers twitching on Peter's hips, trying to control himself, "what a cunt you got on you," he was feeling his own burn, "wink like a foxtrap, _ fuck, _" some vague voice in his head grumbled that he should watch his language, but he was too busy watching himself slide into his Spidey, the tight-hot stretch of the sweet little hole wet and mind-blowing. "Never had pussy this good before," and wasn't that a kicker?

"You've got a filthy mouth," Peter watched Wade shift, beginning to chew his lip, looking unsure, "keep it up, pup." He squeezed the burning hot cock, still only partially inside him, and smirked when Wade jerked in response. "Tell me what you want to do with this pussy." Wade's grip turned biting as he pushed up, forcing himself deeper inside of Peter. 

"Gonna fucking wreck you, baby boy," Wade pulled Peter down, fighting through the incredible tightness that wasn't quite yielding, "chain you to the bed and destroy this sweet little hole until you're crying with it," they finally bottomed out, Peter gasping as he leaned his weight on Wade's shoulders, head hanging as he gulped down air to deal with burn. 

"You're enormous," he managed, tears glittering on his lashes. Wade hadn't seemed _ small _ in his hands, but he felt immeasurably bigger inside of him. 

"You're just too tight," Wade countered, breathing erratic as he tried to keep himself in check. "Should fingerfuck you until I can fit my fist in there, your sweet little cunt suckling on my hand like a candy," he began to stroke himself with Peter, raising and lowering the pliant hero along his shaft. Peter shook his head.

"Want to stay tight so it feels like this every time," he ground his hips against Wade's on the downstroke. "Just a bit too mu - ah!" Wade had changed the angle of his hips, the head of his cock dragging over Peter's prostate. Sweet slick gushed down Wade's length, pooling at the base of his cock and dripping down his balls. 'W_e're keeping him, and that's final. Gonna have him dripping on this cock every fucking night until the heat death of the universe.'_

"That good, baby boy?" He pulled Peter back up, "you like Daddy fucking your pretty pussy?" Peter nodded, gasping a moan as he was lowered down. "Daddy's gonna keep your little cunt, baby boy, gonna come in you nice and deep," he snapped his hips up as he pulled Peter down, punching a shout from his little rabbit, "knock you up, baby boy," he was losing control, his greed running away with him. "Fuck you so good you get pregnant," Peter was shaking, his cock bouncing against his stomach. 

"Come for Daddy, baby boy. Show Daddy how much you love his cock inside you." Peter lifted one hand from Wade's shoulder, tearing the leather as he did so, too far gone to pay attention to his setules. He resisted Wade's pull, running his fingers through the slick dripping down the other man's length, getting his hand wet for himself. Wade snarled and Peter's knees abandoned ship. It seemed he really did have a thing for danger. Wade yanked him down, furious and needy, riled by the show of strength. 

Peter wrapped his hand around himself, stroking in time with Wade's thrusts. He curled his hand into a fist on Wade's shoulder, tearing more of the material as his setules gripped onto the leather, tearing it to shreds. Peter made a vaguely apologetic noise, his stomach quivering with need. Wade moaned, thrusting viciously. 

"Gonna come for me, baby boy? Daddy wants you to," his fingers dug further into Peter's hips, the pain pushing Peter ever closer to the edge. "Daddy wants everything, honey bun, I want it _ all,_ every part of y-" he broke off in a gasp as Peter froze, his eyes screwed shut like he was in pain, his muscles locked choke-hold tight around Wade's length as orgasm stormed through him. "Fuckin' gorgeous," Wade wheezed, his hips vibrating against the incredible power of Peter's hold. He'd die happy here, balls deep in the beautiful buck and never regret a single second of it. 

Peter gasped, his eyes drifting open as he slowly released his strangle-hold on Wade's cock. "Too fuckin' pretty for your own good," Wade breathed as he went wild, pulling Peter's loose body against his punishing thrusts, "didn't even know what you were getting yourself into, you sweet little slut," his own orgasm was just a thought away, "just had to have Daddy - couldn't-" he ground his hips up, his knot blowing as he began come. He was going to lock this sweet little buck until he begged to be released - and keep him ages after that. 

Peter's dazed eyes began to widen, a certain brand of clarity beginning to bleed in around the edges of his post-orgasmic haze. 

"Wade," he ventured, his voice soft and hoarse from the sweet sounds he'd been making, "what's happening?" 

"Knotting you," Wade rumbled, grinding up into the sweet, wet heat wrapped around his aching knot. "Gotta knock you up, baby boy, keep you full and locked." He dropped his head back, eyes rolling behind his mask. 

"Knotting?" Peter's voice sounded reedy, confused and still weak from orgasm. 

"Knotting," Wade agreed, "tying you up, little spider."

"For how long?" A vague note of panic could be detected in Peter's voice, anxiety beginning to lace his scent. 

"At least a half hour," Wade allowed, rolling his hips.

"A half hour?" Peter repeated, weakly. 

"Longer, you keep smelling like that, your little wink sucking on my knot like a lolly." Wade smiled vaguely up at his sweet little bunny as he shifted around, his cheeks flush and full. 

"Get comfortable," Wade advised, "you're gonna be there awhile." He opened his arms, encouraging the little spider to lay against him. Peter paused, unsure for a moment. He'd decided to have sex with the crazy wolf, but hadn't really considered anything beyond getting off. He shifted slightly, and was forcibly reminded of the reality of his situation. He nibbled at his lip as he leaned forward, slowly settling against Wade's chest, nestling into the warm, sated scent of a predator.

Wade smiled, resting a hand against the small of Peter's back, already plotting way to keep his little spider.

"Rest a bit, Spidey," he nuzzled into Peter's hair, "you need it."

"Peter," came the sleepy reply. "Name's Peter."

"Pleased to meet you," Wade responded, wrapping his arms around the hero's back, "very pleased." 

**Author's Note:**

> Heh. So. This took about six months of writing and it's just.. done. I guess.  
Please let me know if I made any grammatical errors.  
Health, wealth and happiness, y'all.
> 
> BTW: If you'ver any curiosity about how I came to this place:  
A Gramander fic with Wolf!Percy and Bunny!Newt: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12090708  
And a Bagginshield with Wolfy!Thorin and Bunny!Bolbo: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12090708


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